


Thomas the Tank Engine Lives in a Totalitarian Society

by jumpforjo



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Library, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Caffeine Addiction, F/M, Single Dad AU, caffeine is basically lyrium right, races remain the same! no magic tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-05-17 19:49:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5883433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jumpforjo/pseuds/jumpforjo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Story time is an essential part of Cullen Rutherford's week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Junie B Jones is a Party Animal

**Author's Note:**

> most of cullen's dialogue in the first scene is pulled from a very elaborate goodreads review <3  
> other than that, please enjoy!

It takes Cullen six months to talk to the librarian. Alright,  _ technically _ it takes nine but Cullen likes to count from when he decided he would talk to her. It took him three months to get that far. When he finally does, it’s with shaky and sweaty palms and note cards that his daughter had helped him write ahead of time. He gives her a critical analysis on the latest Junie B. Jones book she’d read during story time ( _ Junie B. Jones is a Party Animal _ , if you’d like to know). She read it five weeks ago. 

Unfortunately, Cullen can only  _ actually  _ read about half of the note cards since he overestimated six-year-old handwriting. He approaches her and nearly backs out the moment they make eye contact because her eyes are big and green and pretty and she has freckles that you can only pick out against her brown skin up close.

“I uh-” He envisions the twelve pack of Coke his daughter will let him have if he actually does this. “I wanted to talk to you about a book you read recently.” Her shoulders tense up as if she thinks Cullen is about to yell at her so he decides to just plunge in. “The Junie B Jones one. I really enjoyed it,  I thought it was a rather childish book. But, y’know. In a good way. It was a funny, foolish book to read that brings comedy to the reader.” He flips note cards, hands shaking. 

Unfortunately, he thinks his face might be sweating so he can’t actually look at her and figure out how she feels about this. “My favorite part, and my daughter’s actually,” Was it bad form to bring up his daughter? “Was when Junie and her friends all jumped on the bed.” His voice cracks slightly and he prays that she doesn’t notice. “It was a really good moment of problem solving for all of them, I felt. Unfortunately, Rosie wanted to jump on the bed when we got home and it felt like a really bad idea but it was all fine.” Saying it out loud, now, he realizes he gave his child an old lady name. He vaguely wonders if it’s too late to change it. 

“The book had a really good theme and message too.” He flips notecards. This one has six-year-old handwriting scrawled over it. He flips again. And again. Why did he think having Rosie help would work? “U-uh,” Cullen stuttered and took a deep breath. He’d just have to wing it. “The author really- uh. You have to make the best of something bad” Like letting your daughter write your conversation notecards. “You also don’t have to be rich to be happy.” He mentally pats himself on the back for that one. “It’s a great message not only for elementary students but adults. This book really transcends all ages. I’d recommend it to anyone, really. The writing is very accessible even for younger children if they have it read to them.” 

Cullen sort of nods at the end of it as if reassuring himself then walks away. Rosie trails after him, asking if he’ll get her a slushy when he gets his coke.  

Sometime after the conversation, he realizes that not only did he not introduce himself, he doesn’t know her first name. She’s just “the nice librarian that does story time” or “Miss Lavellan.” He also never asked her what she thought of the book. It was the final notecard and he hadn’t flipped to it. If the world worked in his favor, he wouldn’t have gone back the next week but his daughter refuses to go anywhere else. 

When he gets there, there is no pretty, white haired librarian in sight. Instead, “Mustache desk guy” (as Cullen referred to him in his head) was seated in the storytime spot, a copy of the “Thomas & Friends Storytime Collection” in hand. Any normal person would assume that the pretty, white haired librarian was sick or had a day off. Cullen, unfortunately, is not that normal and instead assumes that he made the poor woman uncomfortable and she quit her job and probably moved out of the city. 

It doesn’t help that “mustache desk guy” (who Cullen now knows as ‘Mr. Pavus, the most charming librarian in all of Thedas’), keeps giving him these knowing looks between trying to explain governmental systems to elementary-aged kids. “Thomas the Tank Engine is a totalitarian society.” He says it so  _ insistently _ . Cullen vaguely wonders if he’s okay and how desperate the times must be if this is the guy running story time. Another bout of nausea passes through him.

Unaware to him, “Miss Lavellan,” better known as Mirae to those that bothered to ask, had a killer fever and hadn’t left her bed for a solid 12 hours. As she’d professed to “mustache desk guy,” “Mr. Pavus,” or just Dorian multiple times over text, she “had the plague” and was “definitely on her deathbed.” Dorian may have replied with patronizing emojis but within an hour his boyfriend, Bull, had shown up with homemade soup. 

He handed it over with a smile and a wink, “Anything for my almost-girlfriend.” If her brain didn’t feel clogged to hell she would’ve asked what he meant. “Do you need blankets? Medicine? Kleenex? Dorian said I’m yours for the day.” 

“...Can you heat up the soup for me? And then will you watch Portlandia with me?” Her voice couldn’t have sounded more pathetic and she nearly hacked up a lung right after. Bull scooped her up and placed her on the couch in a full nest of blankets then went off to feed the both of them. While he was out she pulled out her phone and snapped a picture of Bull at work in the tiny apartment’s kitchen.

**[ to: Princess Mustache ]:** thank you for lending me your boyfriend!

[ 1 attachment ]

**[ from: Princess Mustache ]:** Here I am, about to place myself in a crowd of biological 

weapons and you text me pictures of my boyfriend making you soup. Chivalry is dead.

**[ to: Princess Mustache ]:** apparently not! he even let me wear his hoodie [heart eyes emoji] [ 1 attachment (it’s a selfie of Mirae in Bull’s Hoodie) ]

**[ to: Princess Mustache ]:** ;D

**[ from: Princess Mustache ]:** You are dead to me. Hot Dad is here. Looks like he wants to die.

Her face flushed and she decided to not even dignify that with an answer. 

“Your fever back up?” Bull set the bowls of soup down and pressed a hand to her forehead. His palm was nearly the size of her face, and she’d never even noticed! He made some grunt that she couldn’t decipher and plopped onto the couch next to her. She instantly snuggled right up to him as he sighed and clicked the series on netflix to pick up wherever Mirae left off. 

Meanwhile, Dorian concluded storytime with homework that none of the kids would do and sent them on their way. Cullen’s daughter bounced up to him, brimming with questions about why everyone has different governments. He is, unfortunately, still nauseous and tries to bumble through the questions to the best of his ability. 

Cullen isn’t entirely certain how he gets home and into comfortable clothes but he’s not going to  _ complain _ about it. His fingers curl into the worn, stained grey sweatpants as he berates himself for drinking that entire 12 pack in under a week. He’s a 28 year old man, he should have been able to haggle an extra twelve pack from a six year old, but here he is, completely without a source of caffeine. Rosie is coloring on the floor, those fancy twist-out crayons fanned around her. Maybe he should take up coloring, she seems so calm. 

“Hey, Cullen! Look!” Her voice lilts as she grins at him and holds up the page she’s been focused on. All the colors are in the lines and his heart swells a bit.

“That looks wonderful, Rosie. You did a good job with the lines.” She grins at him and flips the page, setting back to work. His head is pounding and they’d just run out of black tea. If Rosie smelled coffee she’d rip him a new one so Cullen opted for a couple painkillers and Netflix.

Kid-friendly Netflix of course, there was a six year old in the room. He clicked play on Pulp Fiction for the third time that week. 

* * *

 

The cold burns through Mirae in a matter of days. You wouldn’t be able to tell since she’s still in Bull’s sweatshirt and Dorian’s silk boxers, leaned up against Dorian himself while they watch the 13th episode of Portlandia that day. Fridays are good. 

They’ve seen this particular episode at least ten times and Mirae is reciting the jokes in time with the people on the screen. She nestles further into Bull’s hoodie as Netflix tells them that the next episode will start in 20… 19… 18… 17- Dorian clicks to start the new episode with a mild grunt. 

“The kid calls him by his first name.” Mirae doesn’t have to ask who Dorian is talking about. “Also, his name is Cullen.” She hums, neither of them moving their eyes from the brain-rotting vortex of Portlandia. 

“So he’s the step-dad? Probably rich, definitely married.” Her face twists with displeasure. “He’s so pretty, though.” 

“Being pretty tends to help men get married, dear.” Dorian disrupts her position to lean forward and grab the plastic cup of red wine from the coffee table. There are truffle wrappers littered around them and Mirae’s wine sits unloved, the ice cubes having turned it into a watered down mess. 

“Okay but I don’t want him to be married. Maybe his wife is dead.” She pops a truffle in her mouth and steals a sip of Dorian’s wine. “He’s probably married.” He snatches the wine back and clutches it protectively against his chest. 

“He  _ was _ painfully awkward when he tried to talk to you. Either he wants an affair or he hasn’t tried to flirt with someone for multiple years.” He hums, obviously trying to come to an academic conclusion. “You’re an elf so I’m banking on affair.” She pinches his leg. Hard. 

With a glare, Mirae reaches under the table and steals Dorian’s bottle of red wine, taking a swig out of it directly. He made a rather disgusted noise immediately followed by a disappointed whine, muttering something along the lines of “I wanted the rest of that.” 

“He’s definitely married.” 


	2. Where the Wild Things Are

The following week Miss Lavellan is back for story time. Cullen can’t decide if he’s relieved or positively terrified by this particular turn of events. If he talks to her he might be able to get a few ounces of ground coffee but that also requires, well,  _ talking to her _ . He hangs back, letting himself wander through the military history section while Rosie sits cross legged in the front row. 

Anxiety churns in the pit of his stomach as he thumbs through a book of pictures from the Vietnam War. Even from across the library he can hear her detailing the events of  _ Where the Wild Things Are _ as the children sit, completely enraptured in the tale.  If she were to sing, he imagines, she’d have a nice alto. The thought brings a deep red to his cheeks and he places the photo book back onto the shelf with shaky fingers. Do elves have choirs? A quick google search on his phone confirms that, yes, they do and he feels a little stupid for having to ask. He supposes choirs can’t  _ just _ be a chantry thing, right? But are elven choirs religious? His fingers twitch to google again but he decides he’s privately humiliated himself enough for one day and makes a mental note to figure it out later. 

It briefly crosses his mind that he probably could talk to her since  _ Where the Wild Things Are _ is in Rosie’s repertoire of favorite bedtime stories. He knows it pretty well but any topic of conversation 

On the other side of the library, Mirae has a difficult time delivering the week’s story with her usual fervor. She’s still a little sick and Hot Dad seems like he’s avoiding her. It would be easier to ignore him but Dorian keeps giving her pointed looks and is basically following the guy around.

She’s not even halfway through the book when he starts wildly gesturing between his ring finger and waving his hand across his throat. Unfortunately, it’s not nearly as understable as he seems to think it is and Mirae simply raises an eyebrow at him while she flips the page. 

He huffs, letting the breath move his whole body with exaggeration before he slinks back to his desk, glaring at the small librarian. She makes it through the rest of the story with no further bumps, although Hot Dad is still out of sight. Afterwards, a few of the kids hug her legs, professing their thanks and then bouncing over to their respective parents. Most of the parents are friendly enough but a few never miss the opportunity to throw a distrustful glare in her direction. Ah, the joys of working in a predominantly _ shem _ neighborhood. Not that there’s a plethora of libraries they could choose from if they truly had a problem, but she supposes it’s fine unless one of them actually tries to start something. 

Once the children have mostly dispersed, she places the book back into the little feature display. She spots Rosie eyeing here from behind a shelf. “Hey there, what’s up?” Her voice and smile are gentle and inviting. Across the room, Dorian is waggling his eyebrows profusely and Mirae does her best to ignore him.

“What kind of government was in the Land of the Wild Things?” That is not what Mirae is prepared for at all. 

“Well, initially it would’ve been some type of oligarchy, do you know what that it?” Rosie nods enthusiastically.

“Ruled by a small group!” She looks positively pleased with herself.

“Good job! After Max comes in, though, it would become a monarchy. Well, a democratically elected monarchy despite the fact that Max is a complete outsider to the culture he’s entering. But since he’s a human he should obviously be a revered figure of authority. The shems are so good at taming monsters.” A few of the parents within earshot are shooting her rather dirty looks and she tries to paste on a placid smile. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course. The monsters chose him and he was a very good leader.”

Rosie’s brows had furrowed deeply as Mirae spoke. “He really didn’t know about them, did he?” Her voice is puzzled. “Is that what humans did to the elves?”

Shit. 

Shitshitshit. Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit. 

“Not exactly?” She doesn’t want to  _ lie _ to the kid but she doesn’t want to be the one to break it to her either. 

“Well you’re an elf, don’t you know?” Mirae is being punished for her hubris. It’s the only explanation. She blames Fen’harel, it’s probably his fault. Most things are. 

And here arrives her knight in shining armor, the hottest of dads. “Hey sweetie, we have to get home.” 

“But Cullen, I’m talking to the nice librarian! Miss Lavellan was about to tell me about the elves!” 

So, his name is Cullen? If Rosie is calling him by his first name he’s probably step dad. Definitely still married. 

“We have… important home things to do. Like make dinner!” He nods to himself reassuringly, Mirae’s heart flutters a little.

“I’ll tell you about the elves another time, Rosie.” She smiles and Rosie hugs her around the legs. 

“Promise?” Rosie’s eyes were so honest, 

“Yes, of course.” 

Cullen doesn’t say much until they actually get home, still reeling from the gentle smiles the pretty white haired librarian gave his daughter and the fact that his daughter seemed absolutely comfortable around the woman. 

“Miss Lavellan is very nice. I think you should talk to her again.” His daughter takes a seat next to him on the couch, a  _ Frog and Toad _ book in hand. 

“What would I even talk to her about?” The question is earnest and Rosie takes a moment, seeming to roll it around through her brain.

“Ask her about elf things! She seems very smart.” She fumbles through the pages to find her next chapter, settling back into the couch to read. “I bet she’d like it if you did that.” 

“That sounds like a terrible idea.” The back of his head is throbbing. Maybe he could sneak some black tea into the house?

“You’re just anxious.” Her eyes don’t even leave the page. She’s ruthless.

“She probably hates me.” He flicks on the TV and pulls up  _ Pulp Fiction _ on Netflix again.

“Do you watch anything else, Cullen?” 

“I like this movie.” Rosie sighs and rolls her eyes. 

“I’m gonna read in my bed. When’s dinner?”   
“After this movie.” Another sigh.

* * *

 

Mirae is wrapped up in another one of Bull’s hoodies and she’s got her head resting in Dorian’s lap with her legs draped over Bull’s. Currently, the boyfriends are arguing over how to solve a co-op puzzle in Portal and Mirae’s had it figured out for a solid ten minutes now. 

“So the daughter, Rosie? She calls him Cullen.” Dorian promptly huffs and hits pause. 

“He probably stole the child. What if he’s a nanny? He doesn’t seem put together enough to be a nanny.” Dorian’s words are scathing and Mirae hums a quiet agreement, still trying to work everything through in her head. 

“Who cares? No guy is hot enough to warrant this much pining. Ask him out or get over it.” She appreciates Bull’s  bluntness, there’s a fond note behind it. Buried somewhere. She hopes. 

“Bull, his daughter asked about governmental systems today! She listened to me!” Bull gives his boyfriend a placating smile and pushes Mirae’s legs off of him. “You’re both ridiculous. I’ve got dinner with the Chargers, you’re going to have to fend for yourselves tonight.” 

“You are aware that our small elf friend doesn’t actually live here, right dear?” Dorian’s smile betrays the bite of his words.

“Don’t be mean to my almost girlfriend. I’ll see you later, Kadan.” And with that, Bull is out the door. 

“Why does he call me that?” Mirae sits up, a languid stretch pulling through her upper body.

“Are you under the impression that I have any idea? Because I don’t. Anytime I ask him he just grunts.” 

Mirae pulls out her phone and dials the nearest pizza place, handing the phone to Dorian before curling back up into his lap. He orders so she doesn’t have to (and it doesn’t hurt that he’s rolling in money from some kind of inheritance or another and always offers to buy the food). 

After the phonecall, Dorian turns on the Corpse Bride.

“He’s probably a step dad.” 

“He doesn’t have a wedding ring.” 

Mirae bolts up, eyes wide and eyebrows flying. “Why didn’t you  _ tell _ me?” 

“I tried to! You waved me away!” Dorian’s bottom lip sticks out petulantly.

“Was that the weird flappy hands?” An exasperated sigh leaves Dorian and he points a glare in her direction. “And anyway,” Mirae continues, choosing to ignore his, “plenty of people forget or don’t wear their wedding rings. Maybe it’s his girlfriend’s kid? Or boyfriend! I know nothing about this guy.” 

“Shut up and focus on the claymation, worry about it later.” Mirae huffs at Dorian’s words as she cuddles into his side.

“I still think he’s married.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: this chapter will be twice the length!  
> me: fails!  
> here's hoping the chapter lengths pick up from here  
> thank you so much for reading, feel free to shoot me a message on tumblr or twitter @ jumpforjo !
> 
> also, special thanks to dankwitch for taking the time to read over this mess and letting me bounce ideas!


	3. The True Story of the Three Little Pigs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as usual, thanks to dankwitch for editing <3  
> enjoy!

Feeling adventurous, Cullen agrees to go to the library with his daughter on not-a-Tuesday. In fact, it is a Friday after Rosie gets off school. She’s rattling on about wanting to read  _ The Giving Tree _ and  _ Matilda _ . He supposes he can indulge her and it has absolutely nothing to do with the small chance of seeing the pretty librarian (and maybe even talking to her! He’s feeling particularly confident today). 

Cullen decides to dress more casually than he does for story time, hoping to show his versatility as a human being that doesn’t just wear business-sort-of-casual. He opts for skinny-cut khakis and a soft, flannel grey button up (it’s not even plaid, it’s just so  _ soft _ ). Good. Casual. Rosie tells him he can have a snapple tea for wearing real clothes and he considers the fact that it’s probably a bad stain on your parenting when your 6 year old daughter says “Cullen, you got dressed! You can get a snapple while we’re out, I’m really proud.” What the fuck, Cullen.

When they arrive, both father and daughter are disappointed with the lack of one small, white-haired librarian. Rosie finds it in her heart to recover quickly so she can scour the children’s section for books. Cullen finds himself back at the war books, admiring old strategic drawings from some general or another. 

Quite suddenly, there is a voice from just over his shoulder , “The Schlieffen Plan is an interesting one, is it not? I find it rather fascinating, to be quite honest. Pre-world war Germany is quite the place.” Unfortunately, Cullen only catches about half of that because he’s too busy being startled.

It’s the mustached librarian and he’s smiling at Cullen from where he stands. “Oh- I- Uh. Yes.” Good.

“Your daughter is the one that actually listened to what I had to say on governmental theories, is she not? I like her.” The man’s brown eyes are piercing into his own now, a smile curled under his mustache. 

“Oh, Rosie? Yeah, she’s been talking about it since you talked about the Thomas the Tank Engine.” He feels uneasy around the librarian. What if he  _ knows _ . 

“What a good job you’ve done with her.” The smile seems genuine enough. “What grade is she in?” 

“Um. First? Yeah, first. She’s six.” Is he oversharing? “She really likes reading, though. And coloring. But she loves books. She really likes to talk about them, it wouldn’t surprise me if she grows up to be a librarian, actually.” 

“How absolutely lovely! How quaint! Would you mind terribly if I pointed her in the direction of some good books? I’d love to talk to her about them.” Cullen shrugs, he supposes a librarian won’t introduce anything too inappropriate. And she’s seen Pulp Fiction so maybe it’s just a lost cause. “Perfect! And what about you, Mister-”

“Oh! Rutherford. But, uh, just call me Cullen, really.” Mustached librarian positively beams at him. 

“A pleasure, Mister Cullen Rutherford. You can call me Dorian.” Dorian gestures proudly to his name tag and shakes Cullen’s hand firmly. “And, Cullen, what types of books do you enjoy? Military, I assume? Anything else?”

“Military books are pretty interesting….” Cullen mumbles the words, hoping there’s not a wrong answer. “Um, I really like historical fiction, I guess. Most people think it’s boring but… I don’t?” Nailed it. Dorian seems genuinely interested in his response and his face doesn’t twist up all funny when Cullen answers. A wave of relief floods through his chest and he smiles gently, cautiously. 

“Have you ever read  _ The Night Watch _ by Sarah Waters?” He shook his head and Dorian visibly perked up, immediately leading Cullen to a different section of the library, undoubtedly to get the book for him. “You have to read it-” There’s a brief moment of Dorian searching his face before brightening, “Cullen! There we go.” He presses the book into his hands. “It’s World War 2, the narrative is told backwards and has such a colorful cast of characters. So underappreciated.” 

Cullen thumbed the book in his hands, it looked to be a couple hundred pages and had a dark blue cover with some type of lamp post. The way Dorian spoke, it had to be interesting, right? “I… uh, I’ll check it out.” The librarian seemed absolutely delighted. 

“Here, hold on just a moment.” Dorian scrambled away and returned a moment later with a scrap of paper. “You have to text me your reactions, can you do that for me?” Cullen’s skepticism must’ve been obvious across his face. “Fasta vass, Cullen. I’m not trying to hit on you, I’ve got a boyfriend whom I love very much. Can a man not share in his love of books?” A hot blush spread through Cullen’s face.

“I! I- uh. Yeah. Sorry? Sorry. Maker’s breath. Wow, uh.” The blush heats further and Cullen thinks that he’d rather be anywhere but right here. Anywhere. He’d take the damn Black City at this point. “I’ll… text you.” 

“Good lad.” Who even talks like that? “I look forward to hearing from you.” And with that, Dorian turns on his heel and disappears behind the counter. Cullen collects his daughter only to find she has a stack of books as tall as she is. After telling her to put a few back, Rosie tells him he can have one of those caffeinated chocolate bars if he lets her get all of them. He does. 

* * *

 

After work that day, Dorian comes home to Bull cooking (and it smells like some type of curry, bless) like the big, beautiful boyfriend of his dreams and Mirae sprawled across his couch.

“Do you ever go home?”   
“Yes, but I get lonely so I try to do that as little as possible.” She looks at him and lifts her legs so he can slide in at the end of the couch. Once he’s settled she rests her legs over his lap. 

“Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes, kadan!” Dorian really, truly hopes that Bull is talking to him and not Mirae. Sometimes he wonders. 

“Trust me, dear, I’ve noticed.” He briefly considers tickling her feet or knees but the leg end is the dangerous end and he prefers an unbroken nose. “Why don’t you move back in with your brother?” She wrinkles her nose and props herself up on her elbows to properly meet his eyes. 

“My apartment has mostly working utilities and I’d like to keep it that way. Also, there’s no way we could pull off having two elves in my area. I’m quiet enough but Maive would start trouble. We’d be burned at the stake within a week.” She sighs and flops back down. Dorian can hear Bull setting the table in the other room. 

Before he can craft a response, his phone buzzes twice in his pocket.

**[ From: Unknown Number ]:** What in the Maker’s will is Doctor Powderpill? Rosie says you gave it to her.

**[ From: Unknown Number ]:** This is Cullen, by the way. I’m sure you figured that out though haha

Dorian takes a moment to create a contact for the man.

**[ To: Hot Dad ]:** It’s never too early to teach your daughter about communism!

**[ From: Hot Dad ]:** Is it too late to tell I disagree with that on a fundamental level?

**[ To: Hot Dad ]:** Quite frankly, Cullen, it’s better for you to accept your fate sooner than later. 

He slips the phone back into his pocket as Bull calls them to dinner. Mirae pokes him in the arm, “Who’re you texting, huh?” 

“Hot Dad.” He delivers the answer smoothly, and it’s every bit as effective as he’d hoped. Mirae’s jaw drops and she stops in her tracks, eyes widening alarmingly. 

“No way. I don’t believe you.” 

“Read it and weep, dear.” He hands his phone over proudly and watches as all skepticism drops and her big, green eyes go even bigger.

“ _ How _ ?” Mirae’s eyes haven’t left the phone screen. 

“He came to the library today! I got to have a pleasant conversation with him and recommend some books to his daughter.” The dining room smells positively amazing and Bull is setting down the last of the dishes. “Amatus, you’re the best I could ever ask for.” Bull rolls his eyes, expertly dodging light fixtures with his horns before sitting down. 

“Don’t speak too soon, Kadan, you’re in charge of dishes.” Dorian wrinkles his nose as he takes a seat. 

“Which curries did you make?” Mirae eagerly pulls the lid off of the one closer to her and reveals a chickpea curry. There are a few fresh cilantro leaves sprinkled over the top and a few slices of lemons and limes. Bull’s curry must be magic because she instantly forgets anything about Hot Dad. 

“Chickpea, obviously, lentil, and potato cauliflower.” Bull sounds proud of himself as he scoops some rice onto his own plate.

“Wait… what about chicken? or lamb?” Dorian looks to his boyfriend with pleading eyes.

“You know Mirae is a vegetarian! I made vegetarian curries for her.”

Dorian is a simple man with simple needs. He wants an evening alone with his boyfriend, not just vegetables in his dinner, fine wine, and to have enough alone time to have  _ good _ sex with said boyfriend. He doesn’t think it’s so much to ask but the chickpeas are mocking him as Mirae compliments  _ his _ boyfriend on dinner. There isn’t even wine. He’s a good fucking person, thank you very much. 

He makes a mental tally mark to represent the number of days it’s been since he’s had  _ any _ sex. It’s at 17 now. 

* * *

 

That Tuesday, Rosie is all kinds of impatient to get to the library. 

She’s made her own notecards to talk to Dorian about all the books she’s read this week. Before they head over she rehearses with Cullen and he has a little surge of pride. Like father, like daughter, right? He also gets another snapple out of the rehearsal.

As soon as they’re in the library Rosie makes a beeline for Dorian and he grins at her as she approaches. Cullen follows at a respectable pace like the grown man he is. By the time he gets there Rosis is two notecards in. He’s so proud of her. Dorian acknowledges him with a nod but he’s deeply invested in the six-year-old interpretation of communism in  _ Doctor Powderpill. _

Nervously, Cullen thumbs at  _ The Night Watch _ . He actually managed to read the whole thing over the four days and actually texted Dorian through the whole thing. For once, he finds himself texting someone more than his eldest sister, Mia. Or even more than Josie. Can you consider someone a friend after four days of semi-regular interaction? Probably not. Cullen promptly decides that Dorian hates him and texts him out of pity. He briefly considers escaping to the military history section again but Dorian would find him. There is no mercy in this cruel world and from the sound of Rosie’s speech, Marx would agree. 

After Rosie makes her way through the notecards she grins and Dorian compliments her analysis. He tells her that he’ll gather a stack of books for her while she enjoys story time and Rosie instantly reverts to her own age and bounces over to where the pretty librarian is settling in with  _ The True Story of the Three Little Pigs _ . 

“And how about you, Mr. Rutherford?” Cullen realizes quite suddenly that Dorian has his gaze turned on  _ him _ now and immediately reaches for nonexistent notecards. He knew he should’ve made some. “Oh don’t look so flustered, you told me everything as it happened. Do you want another recommendation or would you rather peruse for yourself?”

Right. He did tell Dorian everything. Good. Are they friends?

“I really liked that one. If you have another recommendation I’ll read it.” He takes a deep breath because there’s no reason to be nervous around Dorian. Dorian likes Rosie and books. Cullen also likes Rosie and books. They should get along marvelously. Once the tension begins to loosen out of his shoulders he takes a sip of the snapple to nurse the lingering headache. 

“Perfect! I know exactly which one. It’s completely different but it’s more military than  _ The Night Watch _ .” Dorian leads the way again and Cullen is only mildly distracted by the cadences of the pretty librarian’s voice. “Okay, so the cover is ugly. I get that, but you have to trust me.” Dorian isn’t lying, the cover is a disaster. He can’t help but wonder if they sell this book at airports that have the stores that let you sell them back after your flight. “It’s set just after the Second Crusade and follows Arn Magnusson as he becomes a Knight Templar. And lucky you, it’s part of a trilogy, so if you like it there’s two more!”

This one is a couple hundred pages shorter, he’ll no doubt be through it by Friday and Rosie is insist that they now come back  _ every _ Friday. Dorian pats his shoulder, grinning at him. “Let me know how you like it! You’re a good texter.”

“Thank you?” 

Good texter? What’s that even supposed to mean? He’ll talk it over with Rosie later. 

“I must return to my very important duties as librarian, but do keep in touch, won’t you?” Dorian doesn’t wait for an answer before he disappears. Cullen learns very soon that ‘important duties as librarian’ means collecting a new stack of books for Rosie and she’s positively raving about them. Pretty librarian is the one that checks them out. Her name tag reads ‘Mirae’ and Cullen finds himself entirely distracted trying to figure out how to pronounce it. Mee-rae? Mee-rah? Elves pronounce things weird and he doesn’t have anything to go off of. 

As Mirae scans the books, she notices Hot Dad mouthing something to himself over and over. His brows are tightly knitted and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realize his eyes are trained on her nametag. With a furtive smile, she finishes stamping the due dates into his books. “These are due in two weeks. Also it’s pronounced Mir-ay. Short first half, long second half.” She slides the books over the counter to him as a blush takes over his face. 

“O-oh! Right. Have a good morning. Evening. Day.” He looks more mortified with every word and Mirae tries to reassure him with a smile but his blush only deepens as he mumbles something else before near darting out the doors with his daughter in tow.

Mirae leans back, “Hey, Dorian?” She hears a hum and his head pops up from behind one of the shelves behind the main desk. “Maybe he’s not married after all.” 

Dorian shrugs and goes back to sorting the returned books.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Doctor Powderpill is literally Marxist children's literature and you can read it here: https://www.marxists.org/subject/art/literature/children/texts/chukovsky/doctor.html
> 
> In other news, thank you all so much for reading and supporting this fic, i hope you enjoyed the chapter!   
> as always, feel free to drop me a line on tumblr or twitter @ jumpforjo!


	4. Pete the Cat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is currently unedited but will be updated with edits in the next day or so  
> if i don't stick to my schedule though, everything will go to shit so here is your weekly scheduled chapter! enjoy!

Rosie isn’t really a fan of Chantry services. They’re too early (9 am to be exact), they’re long (about an hour and a half), she has to dress nice (read: Cullen shoves her into uncomfortable, frilly dresses and shoes that give her blisters), and there’s always singing (most of the congregation can’t sing and doesn’t seem to be aware of it). All around, they’re less than pleasant. 

At 7 am she can hear Cullen getting in the shower, never one to miss routine. As if it will save her from inevitably being dragged out of bed in exactly thirty minutes, she burrows down into her covers, wondering if she could fake sickness to get out of going. It won’t work, but a girl can dream, right? She burrows further when the shower turns off.

It will take Cullen exactly 10 minutes to put on a pink (“salmon”) dress shirt, grey slacks, and black dress shoes that probably don’t give him blisters. Rosie will protest every dress he offers her until she agrees to the very first one and Cullen will groan and pick out matching tights and shoes while she wiggles into it so he can zip it up. He’ll have almost forgotten his tie and have to rush back to his room before he forgets it  _ again _ while Rosie’s dress is only half zipped up. Then, they’ll stop by the vending machine on the first floor of the apartment complex so Cullen can get a lemon iced tea (the caffeine makes him less jittery during the service and Rosie thinks the lemon helps his voice for the singing part) and Rosie can get an apple juice. Finally, they’ll arrive exactly ten minutes before the service and sit next to Leliana in the fourth row on the right. 

To no one’s surprise, the morning goes exactly as planned. They settle in alongside Leliana and Rosie takes a large gulp of apple juice. She doesn’t understand why they can’t all go to the service at 3 pm with Josie (according to Leliana, Antivans can’t be woken before 11 on a weekend), sure, it’s in Antivan but it’s not like she’s listening to what they’re saying at 9 am  _ anyway _ . Her dress is itchy and Leliana and Cullen are talking about something adult-y and boring. 

Revered Mother Cassandra is greeting various families with a kind smile. Rosie supposes she does like the woman’s Nevarran accent but that’s about as far as the positive side goes. Her mind is still attached to one of the books Dorian gave her to read:  _ Matilda _ . She wonders, if she focuses hard enough, if she could move one of the candles up at the altar. 

Within a few minutes, the chatter dies down and the Revered Mother begins the service with verses from the Chant of Light. She’s barely started speaking when Rosie checks out. Maybe, after the service they’ll meet up with Josie for a late breakfast, she thinks she’d like that. 

* * *

 

That Tuesday, Mirae selects a few of the  _ Pete the Cat _ books (specifically,  _ I love my White Shoes _ , and  _ Four Groovy Buttons _ ). Dorian says it will rot the children’s brains but she’s not in the business of listening to Dorian. Children are slowly gathering to sit on the rug while parents either take seats around them or drift off to wander the stacks for the next half hour or so.

Rosie is seated directly in front of her, grinning in anticipation. Hot Dad has moved to his now-usual position in the military history books and she’s certain that Dorian will pounce on him as soon as she begins reading. 

And pounce he does. Dorian slides up next to Cullen who has some book open to the picture section. What an avid reader. And once again, the poor guy jumps as Dorian materializes over his shoulder.

“Well then, Cullen, what are we reading today?” The pictures are in black and white.

“You have to stop doing that!” Cullen protests, hand clutching at his chest and somehow managing not to drop the book in his hands. “It’s  _ Wounded _ by Emily Mayhew. Not fiction but I’ve heard it’s still kind of narrative...ish?” There’s always a not of uncertainty to his voice. 

“I haven’t had the pleasure of reading that yet. Let me know, though.” He grins, standing entirely too close just to watch Cullen squirm. 

“Oh! Definitely. Yes. I will give you my professional casual reader opinion. Stat.” 

“Actually, what are you doing on Friday night?” His voice betrays no ulterior motives, nothing but sheer curiosity. Dorian Pavus is a smooth, smooth man. 

“Well Rosie wants to come here again in the afternoon. We usually eat dinner at six and Rosie goes to bed at like 10 because it’s the weekend.” He replies, looking like he’s thinking entirely too much about the words leaving his mouth. 

“Can you get a babysitter?” Dorian quirks an eyebrow, leaning in just a bit closer with his inquiry. 

“I could probably get Leliana and Josie to watch her. What are you getting at?” He cuts to the point. Dorian likes that in a man. 

“We should catch a movie on Friday. I was just going to go with Mirae but I feel like you don’t get out much, Cullen.” Cullen’s confusion morphs into embarrassment and he won’t meet Dorian’s eye, a hand instinctively grasping at the back of his own neck. 

“O-oh! I… I could do that.” Cullen nods, as if reassuring himself. “What movie?” 

“Whichever has the worst reviews, dear.” He pats Cullen’s shoulder and leaves to collect a stack of books for Rosie. 

 

After work, Bull picks up both Dorian and Mirae. It’s over 20 days now. If Dorian hits one celibate month, there will be Hell to pay.  _ Hell _ . 

It’s entirely too cold for the top on their convertible but he supposes that’s the curse of having a Qunari boyfriend. Bull’s horns aren’t particularly conducive to most cars and he insists that he prefers the open air. Not that the interior is mostly covered in plastic to protect the poor car from the elements. Dorian isn’t bitter that he’s shivering and Mirae is buried in  _ his _ boyfriend’s sweatshirt. Maybe he can steal a jacket from Hot Dad. Make Mirae jealous  _ and  _ get laid (Bull can be prodded into possessiveness). Two birds, one stone. 

When they get home, Bull sets about finishing up dinner and Mirae follows Dorian to his room so they can both change into reasonably comfortable clothes. She still has Bull’s sweatshirt and she steals leggings from Dorian. If the sweatshirt was two sizes smaller it might be fashionable but the tiny elf is simply swimming in it. He sighs as she tugs the leggings over her thighs. ‘Thighs for days’ as Sera had described them in a drunken attempt at flirting. 

Dorian slips into cotton pajama pants and a black tank top. His boxers have little purple skulls on them. It’s not like he’s getting laid tonight, anyway. 

He debates telling her about Cullen coming to the movies on Friday, but he decides not to. She might bail! And he can’t possibly have that. 

Bull serves a lovely dinner and after, Mirae goes to take a bath. Her apartment only has a shower and is also probably covered in a solid inch of dust with how little she’s there. It’s fine. As soon as she leaves, he turns to Bull, grinning. 

“Amatus, did you know that you’re dating a matchmaker extraordinaire?”

“Oh am I?” He chuckles, the sound is deep and warm.

“I invited Mirae and Hot Dad to the movies on Friday.” He’s rather impressed with himself.

“Bait and switch? I like it.” Suddenly, Bull’s face twists delightfully into a smirk. “Does this mean we have Friday night to ourselves?” Initially, Dorian truly had been planning on attending the movie with both of them as a buffer. The loyal part of him is telling him not to abandon ship but there’s a blinking sign of neon lights that just reads “31 DAYS OF CELIBACY” in the distance and he simply cannot take that risk. 

“Yes, yes we do.”

* * *

 

Mirae is punctual. It’s a quality she rather values in herself. And as such, she arrives at the theatre exactly five minutes before she’s supposed to meet Dorian. She buys her ticket to some awful drama flick that they’d properly researched for maximum terrible movie points. Her outfit is equally awful, one of Bull’s hoodies and paint-smeared jeans that belonged to her ex. She’s prepared and excited to lose brain cells and gain weight by the end of the film.

Exactly two minutes before Dorian is set to arrive, her phone buzzes in her pocket as she buys the first round of snacks (a chocolate candy, two different fruity candies, and a large bucket of popcorn that gets them free refills). She shoves the candy in the hoodie pocket and manages to pull out her phone.

**[ From: Princess Mustache ]:** Go get ‘em, tiger.

What the fuck was that supposed to mea-

Hot Dad walks in, obviously looking for someone. Probably Dorian. She’s going to  _ kill  _ Dorian. Mirae briefly contemplates devouring every one of the snacks she just bought alone in a bathroom stall.

Unfortunately, before she can dart (or even decide what she’s going to  _ do _ ) Hot Dad spots her. He seems a little startled but immediately heads in her direction. Shit. Shitshit _ shit _ . 

 

Dorian hadn’t mentioned that Mirae (Mir-ay, he repeats the name in his head a few times) would be there. Or had he? Cullen supposes it doesn’t matter now. She’s wearing a big hoodie that looks like it belongs to a pretty huge guy. A pretty huge guy that’s probably her boyfriend.  _ He’s going to get his ass kicked _ . 

Lovely. Good. Their eyes meet and he has no choice but to go over. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, praying that Dorian will be there soon. Unfortunately, he was supposed to have been there five minutes ago and there’s a single notification.

**[ From: Dorian (mustache emoji) ]:** Go get ‘em, tiger. 

The worst thing that could’ve happened happened. Panic is curling through all of his veins and he can feel his palms start sweating. And his armpits. And his forehead. Please, Maker’s breath, not this. He’s in ratty jeans and an even rattier jacket! He’s supposed to see a crappy movie with Dorian! Rosie said he could have a medium coke for going out!

“I guess Dorian bailed.” Her smile is cute. And sweet. Cullen prays for a quick and dirty smiting. 

“Yeah. Was he in charge of drinks? I can get us drinks since you got the popcorn?” He’s talking too fast and stumbling over his words, he just knows it. He doesn’t wait for a response and just gets in line.

**[ To: ☆.。Rosie・°☆ ]:** Mustache man betrayed me. It’s just me and Miss Lavellan.

**[ From: ☆.。Rosie・°☆ ]:** u can have a large coke if u dont leave. and a coffee in the morning.

**[ To: ☆.。Rosie・°☆ ]:** Deal. Are you behaving for Leliana and Josie?

**[ From: ☆.。Rosie・°☆ ]:** focus on ur date, cullen. its rude to text. 

**[ To: ☆.。Rosie・°☆ ]:** Touche

**[ To: Dorian (mustache emoji) ]:** What does Mirae like to drink?

**[ From: Dorian (mustache emoji) ]:** Dr. Pepper. Also, get something with chocolate and caramel. 

**[ To: Dorian (mustache emoji) ]:** I’ll take your word for it. 

 

**[ To: Princess Mustache ]:** you’re dead to me

**[ From: Princess Mustache ]:** ;)

**[ To: Princess Mustache ]:** you’re the absolute worst

**[ From: Princess Mustache ]:** ;D

**[ To: Princess Mustache ]:** i’m going to move five books from each section into the wrong place

**[ From: Princess Mustache ]:** gtg gonna get laid, have fun be yourself, dear :*

**[ To: Princess Mustache ]:** the worst kind of person.

Cullen comes back with two large sodas and a box of milk duds. Either he texted Dorian or he’s perfect. Mirae chooses to believe that he’s perfect despite the fact that he almost certainly texted Dorian.

“Let’s go secure some seats.” She leads the way to theater 4 and winds their way into the center of the back. Anywhere else is too loud and hurts her neck. It doesn’t occur to her that it’s also the prime make out spot in a theatre until a few teenaged couples gather around them in various spots. Wonderful.

Not that she doesn’t want to make out with Hot Dad (because she really, really does), but he’s been avoiding her gaze and nearly jumped a foot out of his seat when they reached for the popcorn at the same time. Their hands hadn’t even brushed. The nervousness is a little endearing, she’ll admit, but she doesn’t want to come on too strong. Or at all. Because of the whole probably married thing. Fuck,

The movie starting is a small blessing and Hot Dad seems to relax as the social pressure lessens. She finds herself looking at him a lot more than the travesty of a film they’ve chosen. He keeps his eyes trained carefully on the screen and clings to his soda for dear life. His hair is messier than usual and she has the distinct desire to run her hands through it. It’s just the right amount of curly. He’s kind of pretty, all things considered. Even the scar on his top lip lends itself to rugged handsomeness more than deformity or flaw. 

She doesn’t catch him looking when she’s actually captured by the screen. His eyes trace the lines of her messy, short white hair. He tries to count her freckles in the dim light and finds himself desperately wanting to kiss the tip of her nose. Her profile is as elven as her pointed ears with big eyes and a near straight line running from her forehead all the way to her chin.  

After the movie, Cullen thinks Mirae looks particularly cute. She stretches and he can imagine the shift of her muscles under the large sweatshirt. The boyfriend hoodie. He tries not to think about that as she blinks into the flood of light in the hallway.

“That was spectacularly awful.” She’s grinning and Cullen’s heart clenches in his chest. 

“Spectacularly.” He sends a small thanks to Andraste that his voice hasn’t cracked once. “Do you, uh, need a ride home? I can give you a lift.” Dorian didn’t say if he was giving her a ride or not. It’s polite to ask. He might get distracted or nervous and crash his car but he feels like he could get her home. Eventually.

She jingles her keys. “Drove here. Thanks for the offer, though.” She isn’t meeting his eyes either and both of them are rocking on the balls of their feet.

“I’ll see you Tuesday?” There’s the voice crack. His gratitude was given too soon. Either Mirae doesn’t notice or she has the mercy not to say anything.

“Yeah! Tuesday- uh,” She’s never asked his name. Good. Good job, Mirae. 

“Cullen. You can call me Cullen.” His answer is rushed and jumbled and he hopes it all came out in order. 

“Cullen.” He could listen to the way his name rolls off her tongue for the rest of his life. That might be an exaggeration. He just hopes she says it again. “Well, I will see you around, Cullen.” There are small blessings in the world. 

They wave goodbye and immediately leave in the exact same direction. Perfect. Wonderful. Cullen panics and ducks into the men’s restroom to let her leave first.

* * *

 

**[ To: Princess Mustache ]:** if he’s married i’m gonna kill you

**[ To: Princess Mustache ]:** well, kill you deader

**[ To: Princess Mustache ]:** i really hope he’s not married

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!  
> as always, you can hit me up on tumblr or twitter @ jumpforjo!


	5. Where the Sidewalk Ends

That Tuesday, Mirae is a ball of anxiety. She’s been releasing it in bursts to a considerably more sympathetic Dorian. After Friday, she’d forgotten to get Hot Dad’s- Cullen’s- number and there had been radio silence from his end with Dorian. Which probably means that she made him uncomfortable or that Dorian misread the signals.  _ How did she forget to ask for his number? _

Parents are beginning to gather for story time and Cullen and Rosie are nowhere to be seen. Dorian suggests that one of them might have a cold but uneasiness is twisting around in the pit of Mirae’s stomach. Then, just minutes before story time is scheduled to start, Rosie bounces in followed by….. not Cullen. That’s not Cullen at all. Not even a little bit. 

The woman trailing Rosie has dark skin and darker hair, she’s just a bit overdressed for the library but somehow it seems fitting. Rosie appears to be rambling delightedly to the woman about one thing or another and shit. There’s no way that’s not The Mom. Rosie’s skin falls somewhere between hers and Cullen’s and her hair shares the woman’s color but with Cullen’s curls. The panic doesn’t fully set in until Mirae’s eyes focus in on a glint on the woman’s hand. The glint of a fucking wedding ring. Fuck. Shit. 

She glanced over and her eyes connected with Dorian’s and she thinks that he looks even more panicked that she feels. Instead of sitting in the front like usual, Rosie takes a seat on the edge with Probably Wife and Mirae pastes on her best Children’s Librarian Smile and begins to read a collection of Shel Silverstein poems. By some miracle her voice stays even and her fingers don’t tremble as she turns the pages. 

Quite frankly, Mirae doesn’t remember much of story time. She’d gone into autopilot and tried not to make any eye contact with Probably Wife. Dorian collects his usual stack of books for Rosie and Probably Wife helps her carry them out of the library after Dorian checks them out while Mirae hides in the back. She feels rather stupid. There’s a flash of anger but she can’t even hold it up. That  _ has _ to be Hot Dad’s wife. She feels a little nauseous and tries to focus her shaking hands into sorting the returns for reshelving. 

Mirae only learned his name a few days ago! They’ve only had a few conversations! If she could, she would step out of her body and slap herself for being this upset. The nagging voice in the back of her head reminds her of Dorian’s comment just a few weeks ago,  “You’re an elf so I’m banking on affair.” Fucking shems. She still can’t get over him with his hair curlier than usual and offering her a ride home, blushing through the whole affair and she racks her brain to him very first showing up at the library. Did he have a wedding ring on then? Has he ever worn one? Maybe he just doesn’t wear it. 

Her head goes in circles for the rest of her shift and she tries to keep herself busy with menial tasks.

* * *

 

Immediately after the movie, Cullen felt good. Mirae (Mir-ay. He almost had it.) was sweet and seemed like she enjoyed his company well enough. Except for the Boyfriend Hoodie ™ that he’d never bothered to get an explanation for. He thought about asking Dorian but then Dorian would  _ know _ and he couldn’t possibly have that. So instead, he let that thought fester on his way home, and then spent twenty solid minutes in front of a mirror when he got back, scrutinizing every inch of his appearance. 

He hadn’t bothered enough with his hair. It was too curly and by the time he was looking in the mirror it was an absolutely mess, probably from nervously running his hands through it. Probably sweaty hands. Disgusting. His jacket was frayed and had odd stains here and there. The color washed him out. How awful. That wouldn’t even have been acceptable to wear around Dorian, why would he think that? Then there were his jeans. Paint stained, food stained, child stained, stains that looked vaguely inappropriate, stains that Cullen just couldn’t account for. Half of the stains were there when he got them from the thrift store and the other half had been accumulated over years of fatherhood. 

Had he taken off his jacket at any point? Maker if he could remember. His shirt was just a bit too tight because it was the only comfortable one that smelled okay and it accentuated his muffin top. Josie insisted that it’s cute but he didn’t believe her for a second because she also says her hog nosed snake is adorable and kisses it. On the head. No that they  _ bite _ or anything. A quick glance at his feet revealed mismatched socks (in height, not color) and three year old sandals (lesbian sandals, according to Leliana). 

Then, he’d discarded the clothes for cotton boxers and a sweat stained undershirt, frowning down at his stomach before crawling into bed. His mind was spinning through a million possibilities. What if she thought he was dating Dorian? Those were totally domestic date clothes, right? Wait. Was Dorian asking him on a date and then backtracked? Did Cullen  _ want  _ to go on a date with Dorian? Cullen smacked himself right in the forehead and let out a low groan. This was not the time for that crisis. There wasn’t even a crisis there was just growing panic threading around his arteries. He fell into a restless sleep.

And now, it’s Tuesday and Cullen is sitting on the couch with a dull ache developing in the back of his skull. “No caffeine for a week.” Were the last words out of Rosies mouth as she left with Josephine to go to the library, each carrying a small stack of books to return. His hands fumbled with the pill bottle as he tried to get out an anti-anxiety tablet, feeling slightly nauseated. Within the past forty eight hours, he’s convinced himself that Mirae (Mir-ay) never wants to see him again and that he’s made a terrible fool of himself. 

When Rosie comes back she sits on the edge of his bed and hands him a book that Dorian told her to give to him. She then curls up on the other side and falls asleep right beside him. 

* * *

 

**[ To: Dorian (mustache emoji) ]:** Thanks for the book.

**[ From: Dorian (mustache emoji) ]:** Tell me what you think so far on Friday?

**[ To: Dorian (mustache emoji) ]:** Definitely

 

**[ To: Princess Mustache ]:** i’m going to kill you deader

**[ To: Princess Mustache ]:** but mostly i’m going to steal your boyfriend for cuddling

**[ From: Princess Mustache ]:** that implies that you don’t already, dear

**[ From: Princess Mustache ]:** i’ll do some reconnaissance on friday

**[ To: Princess Mustache ]:** touche. and you don’t have to, i’ll get over it

**[ From: Princess Mustache ]:** and that’s why you’re going to kill me deader?

**[ To: Princess Mustache ]:** enjoyable side benefit, really. 

**[ To: Princess Mustache ]:** :*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as usual hit me up at jumpforjo on tumblr or twitter!! thank you for reading!


	6. I Can't Remember if I'm the Good Sister or the Evil One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shows up 15 years late with gas station coffee
> 
> school is kicking my ass but i finally finished up this chapter!  
> heads up for excessive use of alcohol <3

**[ From: Chief ]:** okay, what’s she wearing?

 **[ To: Chief ]:** That sounds dirty  
**[ To: Chief ]:** But a backless dress. Looks real nice, she’s got a great back. Strong shoulders. She could kick my ass.

 **[ From: Chief ]:** now who’s the dirty one?  
**[ From: Chief ]:** but what’s she got on her feet?

 **[ To: Chief ]:** These weird ballet shoes? They’ve got laces. Match the dress.

 **[ From: Chief ]:** do they have heels?

 **[ To: Chief ]:** No?

 **[ From: Chief ]:** shit.

 **[ To: Chief ]:** What’s that supposed to mean, Chief?

 **[ From: Chief ]:** she’s a runner when she’s drunk, no more than tipsy for you, designated babysitter

 **[ To: Chief ]:** ):

 **[ From: Chief ]:** :*

 

Krem’s personal favorite pastime is assuming Bull is wrong and paying for it later. At the moment, he’s on his fourth Long Island Iced Tea and his small collection of shitty paper umbrellas is growing. He briefly considers naming them. What if he loses one, though? Imagine the devastation. Absentmindedly, Krem twirls the one in his drink.

Mirae traipses over, bright smile and rosy from whatever alcohol she’s been dumping into her body. She only stumbles a little bit and Dorian is right behind her, giving him a look that’s probably supposed to mean something but instead of worrying about it Krem takes another sip of his drink.

“Can I have one?” Mirae’s eyes are wide and fixed on the three paper umbrellas laying next to his drink. Her fingers twitch towards the pink one with bright, wide eyes.

“Yeah, sure.” He picks up the pink one and presents it to her and she nearly squeals, holding the fragile object reverently. Carefully, she tucks it behind a pointed ear.

“Am I cuuuuute?” Mirae does a tiny twirl and Krem doesn’t dignify her with a response.

 

From across the bar, Dorian eyes Mirae with a grin, there’s practically a lightbulb over his head as he pulls out his phone.

 **[ To: Hot Dad ]:** Whav are you doing rihgt now?

 **[ From: Hot Dad ]:** Are you okay??

 **[ To: Hot Dad ]:** WHAVT

 **[ From: Hot Dad ]:** I just put Rosie to bed and Leliana and Josie are over. Why?

 **[ To: Hot Dad ]:** Tell them t watch you r kid and come to the hannged man

 **[ To: Hot Dad ]:** There is a very drunk librarian here that wuold lov to seeee you

 

Dorian is typing furiously on his phone so Mirae decides to slide onto the stool next to Krem and cradles a glass of water and some Dwarven beer that Bull suggested. She deliberately places the pink umbrella into her glass of water and bursts into a wide grin.

“So was it a rough week or are we on ‘let Mirae get as shitfaced as she wants’ duty for the hell of it?” Krem watches as she wiggles around in her dress to keep it at a decent length while she sits.

“Are you sure you wanna open this up?” She sways forward just a bit, cocking an eyebrow. He nods and motions for her to keep talking. “So I live in the shemmiest neighborhood, and usually they just glare at me and ignore me, which I don’t give a shit. We leave each other alone, it’s fine. But some fuck called the cops on me for a ‘noise complaint’ while I was taking a nap and making no noise. Then, the cops are shitty too so they said that even though I didn’t seem to be making a disturbance anymore they wanted to search my home. For no reason at all!” She took a swig of the beer in front of her, wrinkling her nose.

“That’s illegal, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but remember these?” She motioned at her ears, grimacing. “We don’t get a say! Always fun.” Krem must be making a face because she reaches out and pats him on the arm. “ ‘s fine, most people forget, how else do you think it still goes on?” There’s a brief, awkward lull but Mirae doesn’t seem to notice. “Whatever, so they come in, right?And they just rifle up my damn apartment. Nothing illegal or suspicious. Big surprise. But get this, Krem, get fucking _this_ : they told me I’m now going to be under a close watch because of the complaint. A fake fucking noise complaint and the cops are up my ass. My apartment is _still_ a mess, too.”

“...Need help cleaning?” It’’s the most helpful thing that comes to mind and Krem covers by taking a huge gulp of his drink.

“Oh it’s fine, just frustrating. I’ve still got nine months on this lease so I’m not leaving. You’d think the neighbors could at least be civil considering how much time I spend at Dorian’s.” Dorian looks up from his phone for just a moment at the mention of his name but seemingly gives up.

 

 **[ From: Hot Dad ]:** Hello, Dorian. This is Leliana, one of Cullen’s friends. I was wondering what he should wear? He won’t ask and he’s trying to get out of going but I, personally, believe he should branch out.

 **[ To: Hot Dad ]:** Plsed to make you acqquiantanceq, Leliinia. Not ratty jeans nd a nto ratty shirt

 **[ To: Hot Dad ]:** try for red. He lioks goo d in red

 **[ From: Hot Dad ]:** Will do.

 

“My brother has been a fucking mess lately, though.”  Mirae heaves a sigh, running fingers through her hair. “He just broke up with his boy toy- I see you giving me that look but _trust_ me on this one, Krem. They’d been fucking like, what? 2 months? But boy toy is hell bent on making his life harder than necessary and Maive is doing jack shit to make it better. I already went grey, what else does he want from me?” She cracks a wry smile and takes another sip of her drink.

“The thing is, though, my parents want me to move back in with him or for me to let him move in! Like, I’m not giving up my lease! And the neighbors can obviously barely handle one elf let alone a second one that _actually_ makes noise. They also want me to get back together with my ex because he’s “a nice elven boy.” Fucking _shit_ , Krem. They’re shitting themselves that I might marry a shem because I’m in a shem neighborhood now. Like marrying a shem is the _worst_ I could do.” Krem does his best to offer an apologetic smile, because what else could he do? “So what if I like a few shems! Who cares! I thought getting out of the alienage would make things easier!” She groans and drops her head into crossed arms on the counter. Tentatively, Krem pats her shoulder.

“Um… dancing?” He asks carefully and Mirae pops right up, eyes sparkling.

 _“Yes!”_ She downs the last few gulps of her drink and slides off of her stool, carefully tugging her dress down, _probably_ not flashing anyone in the process. Krem offered his hand and she grabbed it, stumbling towards the dance floor with as much grace as she could and pulling him along with.

 

 **[ From: Hot Dad ]:** How does this look? [1 attachment: Cullen is wearing a dark red button up and jeans that are surprisingly free from stains. His hair is somewhat under control and there’s tasteful stubble along his jawline. Dorian almost tears up with pride.]

 **[ To: Hot Dad ]:** The piccture of perfctionn ! Rravishing!

 **[ From: Hot Dad]:** In that case, I’ll drive him over now. See you soon, Dorian.

**[ To: Hot Dad]: :* :* :***

* * *

 

Cullen grumbles all the way to the car but it falls on deaf ears as Leliana presses a kiss to the corner of Josie’s mouth and promises to be right back. Huffing, he settles into the passenger’s seat.

Bars aren’t really his thing. He doesn’t get out much, honestly, but Leliana stole his phone when he tried to politely decline Dorian’s offer. Her and Josie wouldn’t take no for an answer and somehow, Cullen is now seated in the car in an unnecessarily fancy red shirt feeling like a complete fucking mess. Briefly, he considers running, and then immediately decides that running somehow seems more awful than just sticking it out at the bar for a few hours.

“Dorian says you look ravishing.” Her laugh rings like a bell and she returns his phone. Cullen isn’t sure he _wants_ to hang out with drunk Dorian but they’re already pulling away from his house. Why did Dorian even drunk text him? _There is a very drunk librarian here that wuold lov to seeee you_. Leliana has to swat his hand away from anxiously combing through his hair, he didn’t even realize he was doing it. His hair is a careful balance of products that makes it look “more tousled than like curl hell” according to Josie.

Leliana chats at him most of the ride and he retains a grand total of absolutely nothing. None of it sounds too terribly important. It’s mostly stories about her and Josie’s cat.

His palms are sweaty and he’s just a little nauseous. They spot the Hanged Man entirely too soon and before he knows it Leliana is telling him to call when he needs a ride home and she’ll come get him or call him some sort of cab. And then she’s gone.

 

 **[ From: Dorian (mustache emoji) ]:** you here yte?????

 **[ To: Dorian (mustache emoji) ]:** I’m walking in now.

 

Cullen is maybe three steps in when he spots Dorian at the bar. He’s easy to spot, even without the insistent waving. His eyes are heavily lined in black and gold and Cullen feels _intimidated_. Why would Dorian even be interested in him? He’s not even sure he’s into men! At all! In fact, Cullen Rutherford is pretty damn sure he’s straight. Probably.

“Cullen! Lovely! Perfect! You look fantastic.” Dorian’s words slur a bit and he winks at Cullen. “Are you a brandy man or a whiskey man?”

Neither.

“Either?” There’s a lot of activity here, more than he expected. For some reason he didn’t think the Hanged Man would do the whole dancing and loud music thing but evidently he was very _very_ wrong.

“Perfect, one of each then. On my tab, if you will.” The bartender nods. He’s a dwarf with a rather impressive beer.

“One of… what?” There are a _lot_ of people The music is _very_ loud. He’s feeling a bit overwhelmed. Dorian hands him two shot glasses.

“Drink up, Cullen.” Dorian doesn’t seem like the type of guy to drug someone, but isn’t the whole thing that it’s the people you don’t expect? He tries to remember the path of the glasses from the bartender from him but he wasn’t paying attention. He watches Dorian’s eyebrow crook upwards and decides _fuck it_ , downing each glass respectively. Has he eaten today? Too fucking late to worry about it at this point. He sets the glasses down and Dorian offers him a cider.

Well, Cullen _definitely_ did not see where it came from but he’s in deep enough that he just takes it with a quiet “thank you.”

Dorian is sipping some kind of martini or another, a slight red flush over his cheeks. Every once and awhile, his gaze drifts to Cullen, eyes narrowing in scrutiny. Is this what it feels like to be checked out? He just feels vaguely uncomfortable but it’s dulled by the warmth settling through his bones.

Suddenly, Dorian is on his feet with surprising grace and tugging Cullen from his barstool. “I think you’re ready, dear.” He decides, in that moment, that he really _doesn’t_ want to kiss Dorian. In the moment immediately after he decides that while he doesn’t want to, it wouldn’t be the _worst_ -

And he’s being shoved forward into the large mass of bodies making attempts at dancing. Dorian was probably saying something that would explain what was going on, but Cullen wasn’t exactly listening.

“Oh! Holy shit!” That voice is familiar. Very familiar.

He looks down and Mirae (Mir-ay. Mir-ay.) is beaming up at him, practically touching him she’s so close. She’s very obviously drunk and- oh. Maker’s breath, _she’s_ the drunk librarian. _She’s_ the reason Dorian waited for the alcohol to settle into his system just a bit. Of course! Dorian doesn’t want to kiss Cullen. Somewhere in the back of his head, he’s only a little disappointed.

All the thoughts immediately leave his brain, however,  as some guy in the crowd shifts and presses her directly into him.  A surprised “Oh!” leaves her lips followed by a giggle. “You don’t seem like the drink and dance type!” Her fingers are resting on his chest and the alcohol in his system is probably the only reason he isn’t hyper ventilating.

“Uh- Dorian invited me.” Great work, Cullen. Eloquent, charming even. Truly. “You, uh, look really nice.” In all honestly, he can’t really tell what she looks like below her shoulders between the crowd and the lights but the blush he gets out of her is worth it. He feels her softly grip the fabric of his shirt, pulling herself even closer. After a little tug, he realizes she’s on her toes and pulling him forward. His breath catches in his throat as the lights catch her eyes, bright and dilated.

“I’m really glad you’re here.” Her breath is puffing against his face and her smile is much _much_ too close for comfort. He tries to think of something, anything, to say but she tugs just a bit harder and strains upwards to press a kiss right over his mouth and another to the corner.

Cullen has an acute awareness of the way his lips feel just a bit wetter and the way her nails scratch into his chest. Maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe it’s months of pining but Cullen reaches down for a more insistent kiss, one hand on her jaw and the other on her waist. He can feel her smile against his lips.

Mirae (Mir-ay. Mir-ay) only has to drop to her toes to pull away from him. She’s laughing, wiping her mouth.

“I can’t believe I did that! Holy shit!” She shimmies out of his grasp. “You’re married! Fuck!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! as always, you can find me over @ jumpforjo on tumblr and twitter or just drop a comment here!


	7. man walks into a room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shows up 8 years late
> 
> have an update
> 
> he's short im so sorry

When Mirae wakes up she feels misplaced. The bed is too soft, the covers… she can’t place the smell, and as her eyes adjust she realizes that she doesn’t recognise anything in the room. Reality still feels blurry at the edges and she thinks she might still be a little drunk. It takes a moment for the “I don’t know how I got here” and “I don’t know where I am” panic to set in but when it does, she just sort of yells. There are probably words but mostly she’s fucking scared and taking a mental checklist of her body. She doesn’t feel sore or bruised anywhere and the grogginess feels like it’s probably from just waking and leftover alcohol. Probably. 

Even upon gaining more consciousness she has no idea how she got here, and nothing about the room is familiar. Suddenly there’s… yelling back? Someone telling her to “please for the love of the maker shut the fuck up please stop yelling.” The voice. That’s familiar but she can’t pinpoint it until a very rumpled Krem pops in the doorway, scowling. 

“What’re you yelling about?” His voice is groggy and Mirae can feel her heart rate immediately drop back down. “It’s like four am.” 

Her brain is slowly working through the reality that she’s in Krem’s bed and he’s… somewhere? But she’s safe. And it’s late. And she’s definitely still a little drunk. “Sorry, I…” She breaks off, still taking in everything around her, “I didn’t know where I was. And I panicked. A bit.” Krem sighs, rubbing at his forehead. 

“I tried to take you home but you weren’t coherent enough to say where you lived so I just had the cab bring you here.” Mirae is surprised he can string that much together. She’s still half asleep. 

“Oh.” They just stare at each other for a long moment. It’s probably awkward but Mirae is having a bit of trouble with the whole focusing thing. 

“Cool, I’m gonna go back to bed then.” Krem starts to turn on his heel before Mirae protests. 

“Hey, no, this is your bed, I shouldn’t kick you out.” 

“Don’t worry about it, really.” Mirae made an active effort to scoot to one side and patted the freshly empty section of the bed. “Are you serious?” She patted more insistently. 

With a huff, Krem gave in and crawled into the bed, careful to stay to one side. His efforts are for naught, however, because Mirae is instantly curled into his side. When he groans a protest, she wiggles in closer and he decides to simply cut his losses and wrap an arm over her if he wants to get anymore sleep

Mirae is woken again by maker forsaken sunbeams falling over her face. She groans, tucking her face into Krem’s neck. He shifts just a bit under her.  
“Hmm?” His voice is gravelly and she can feel it against the bridge of her nose. Krem shifts again and she leaves the safety of his neck, braving the light to look up at him. There’s a gentle smile gracing his lips and he’s got one eye cracked open to meet hers. “Morning.” 

She lets her eyes fall closed again, chin resting on his shoulder. And then, there’s a subtle press of lips right in the middle of her forehead. Mirae doesn’t bother to open her eyes. “What was that? Mm?” 

“What?” By the time she opens her eyes his are closed again, head leaned back with a satisfied grin.

“You know what.” Mirae cranes her neck, pressing a kiss to his jaw, peppering a few down his neck. It takes her minimal effort to properly drape over him, sprinkling kisses across his cheekbones and pressing a few to the tip of his nose. He laughs under her, a soft sound but she can feel it in his chest. 

As Mirae moves to press another kiss to the tip of his nose, Krem cups her jaw with his hand and stretches up to place a proper kiss right on her lips. She follows him right back down to his pillow, pecking at the corner of his mouth. 

His other hand busies itself pressing small circles into her lower back. She grins right onto his mouth, tangling fingers into his short hair. It’s soft and sweet and she’s a little sleepy and there’s a headache pressing at her temples but Krem pops a kiss on the tip of her nose and she thinks that if she had cancer he would’ve just cured it. 

Her teeth graze his bottom lip and the his hand slips from her lower back right to her ass. Mirae giggles, tucking her face into his shoulder. 

“Shit, sorry-” She silences him with a kiss, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone. 

* * *

  
  


Bull is met with two sets of groans when his phone goes off as he prepares a hangover breakfast. He would feel worse about the shrill ringtone if he wasn’t in charge of not one but two drunk assholes last night. Cullen is draped over the couch, pillow covering his face, and Dorian is still twisted in the covers on their bed. 

“Krem? Everything okay?” He taps speakerphone, setting the phone on the counter while he continues squeezing oranges for fresh juice. You could say he’s a perfect boyfriend. 

“Yeah, Mirae just left.” Bull glances at the time, just after eleven.

“She stayed pretty late, huh?”

“Mhm.” He can hear Krem shuffling on the other end. “I failed step one.”

“You know, I picked up on that when Mirae ran out of the club.”

“I also. Well, I may have  _ also _ failed step two.” Bull sighed, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“You didn’t.”

“This morning.” Bull groans. “I really like her, Chief.” He groans louder.

“What’d I tell you, Krem?”

“That it’s a very bad idea.” He sounds deflated and indignant. 

“And I stand by it.” Krem sighs. Bull rinses off his hands and picks up his phone, “Krem, you can do better.” He feels a little shitty saying that about a  _ friend _ , a best friend even, but maybe he’s just overprotective of Krem. There’s a tell tale silence on the other end. He crumbles. “If you really do like her that much then go for it. But you know she’s about to date Cullen, so if you’re serious you need to be quick about it.” 

“You got it, Chief.” He’s glad to hear more of a smile in Krem’s voice.

“Any time.” The line goes dead and Bull starts bringing food out to the table. “Rise n’ shine! Can’t hide in your blankets forever!” Cullen sits up, equal parts disoriented and disgruntled. Dorian yells a muffled, ‘fuck you!’ from the other room. 

* * *

 

**[ To: Princess Mustache ]:** i kissed him and he’s  _ married _

**[ From: Princess Mustache ]:** is that so? Unfortunate, really.

**[ From: Princess Mustache ]:** have you considered talking to him?

**[ To: Princess Mustache ]:** well.

**[ To: Princess Mustache ]:** i just requested tuesday off

**[ From: Princess Mustache ]:** isn’t that a bit dramatic? Leaving the poor children to suffer with me over your personal issues! 

**[ To: Princess Mustache ]:** you’re right. i hate that

**[ To: Princess Mustache ]:** he’s  _ married _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3 feel free to both me on tumblr or twitter @ jumpforjo!! or in the comments

**Author's Note:**

> hopefully the next chapter will be longer! the goal is to have a chapter up a week but we all know how that goes.  
> feel free to wander over and bug me @ jumpforjo on tumblr or twitter! see you guys in a week <3


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